Chocolate
by Youaretheflametomycandle
Summary: A stony study date turns tragic when Steve refuses to tell his parents exactly what's going on – Hurt and angst – Rated T to be safe – High school Au – set in Steve Rogers' time.


Tony Stark knocked on the Roger's door at 6.30 pm, Thursday. He was wearing skinny jeans, remembering Steve's flirty comment about them, and a red jumper. Over his shoulder was the strap of his bag, in it his laptop – changed to suit him, of course – course work books, pencils and a block of chocolate. He had been unsure about that, but it seemed a better option than flowers. Plus, chocolates were easier to hide from Steve's homophobic parents.

At 6.31 pm, Thursday, Mrs Rogers opened the door. She was wearing a blue dress and a white apron, her blonde hair curled around her face. She was getting old quickly, but she had put it off until the last minute.

"Good evening, Tony, darling! Have you eaten? Come in, come in. Steve's upstairs," she guided him in and past the kitchen where he encountered a smack in the face by the most delicious, mouth-watering smell.

"Yes, I have, thank you. But it does smell good! And thank you, Mrs Rogers!" Tony took the stairs two at a time, eager to see his 'study-partner.' He rapped his knuckles on the door and stepped in, closing the door behind him. Steve was lying on his stomach on his bed and rolled over when he saw Tony. His signature white shirt was as tight as ever around his chest, and his brown jeans were scrunched up his calves a little. His blonde hair was a little ruffled, but he fixed it quickly by running his hand through it. He smiled up at Tony, who was already making his way over. He landed on the bed next to him and pulled out most of his gear.

"Hello," Steve said, biting his lip. Tony only laughed. He pulled out the chocolate and offered the whole thing to Steve, not saying a word, but instead kissing him on the cheek. "For me?" Steve put a hand on the small of Tony's back.

"For you," he said, and opened it. He put a piece in Steve's mouth, letting his fingers catch on his lips. Steve snapped it up, gently and playfully biting Tony's fingers. Tony giggled and nudged his shoulder until he let go. "Ok, we actually have to do this work."

Steve let out an audibly annoyed sigh. He was still on his back, hands behind his head. "We can do it later, in the lounge room. Mum expects me to spend at least a little time with her and Dad still."

"You know, ideally, we could get the work done now and look forward to mucking around a little… in the lounge room. You know, with your parents aware of what we're doing?" Tony knew it was a sensitive subject and avoided eye contact while he spoke about it. "I just… I'm sick of sneaking about behind their backs, Steve!"

"You want to tell them? Ok then, fine. You go down there and tell them," he said, irritably. He sat up and crossed his arms over his chest, "and you see if we're ever allowed to be in the same room, ever again. You go and see how that goes." Steve said, bluntly.

"Not like that, I mean… Break it to them, both of us, respectfully. They're nice, they should respect you back!"

"But they won't, and you know that!" Steve got up and walked away, Tony rolling onto his back. "I'm a good child, the kid they always wanted, Tony. I've got good grades and I am nice and polite around old people. I'm joining the army when I'm old enough and before then, I'm going to work in a factory. You know they had troubles having a child, and I nearly died and you know that! Can't you see? I'm their miracle! I'm their angel! And angels aren't gay!" He snapped the last word, spitting it out with disgust.

"But you're not! You know you're not their little baby angel anymore! You've done loads of things that your parents would probably faint if they found out about! Granted, most of them were with me, but this is different. I love you, and you love me, and they have got to accept it!" Tony's voice rose until Steve shushed him. He did _not _want his parents to hear this argument. Tony jumped up and walked over to Steve, putting a supporting hand on his waist and went in for a kiss, but Steve just turned his head away.

"Get off, Tony. Look, you know that… I love you," he mumbled, as if he wished it wasn't true, "but they don't. We're in our last year of school, and after that we can move out. We can move far, far out. We can leave America for all I fucking care! And then, we don't have to care about anything that anyone thinks, and we can just be us, you and me, together. But we can't tell my parents. We. Can't. I can't put that on them. I am very precious to them and they don't want me to grow up-"

"But you have!" Tony stepped back, throwing his arms in the air, grabbing the edges of his jumper to stop him from hitting something. "You have grown up! You're practically a man – thanks to me – and they have got to get over this fantasy that you'll always be their little baby. You are making your own decisions, heck, you decided to go to war and they're ok with that! You've been accepted to college! You've got plans to move out! You are growing up, so fast!" He fell back onto the bed and breathed deeply. "So fast," he mumbled again. He closed his eyes and breathed to calm him down, taking in the smell of Steve, of his sheets and of his deodorant. He found the chocolate with his eyes closed and put a chunk in his mouth, sucking on it. He felt rather than heard Steve lay next to him, his arm brushing against his side. He shivered a little at the touch, the feeling rushing through his blood. He loved it. He loved his touch, he loved his smell. He loved the feeling of being with him. He loved Steve.

"Sorry," Steve mumbled, tugging a little at Tony's jumper. But that meant 'no.' That meant that he wouldn't tell his parents, that he would rather keep his pride and dignity with his parents than keep him. That he didn't love him enough to tell. That he didn't love him enough.

Tony's parents were both dead, but even so, they wouldn't have cared about Tony's sexuality. He had told everyone that took care of him. His love for Steve was no secret. It was too real, too big to be kept a secret. And it killed Tony that Steve didn't feel the same. It absolutely killed him.

Tony jumped up and walked away, shoving all his stuff in his bag quickly. He put his bag over his shoulder and walked off, coughing to stop himself from crying. He put on a happy face as he walked past the kitchen in which Mr and Mrs Rogers were discussing politics and the sort, mumbled something about 'turns out all the work was done,' and left, closing the door behind him gently. He jogged off down the road, past his tram stop. Tears streamed down his face and the misty cool night stung them. He shoved his hands in his pockets to stop him lashing out at something, but instead violently kicked rocks out of the way. He cursed under his breath, and just kept walking. He would walk the forty-five minutes home. He needed it.

At the Rogers' resident, Steve was still lying on his bed, swallowing hard. He did not cry. He did not curse. He rolled over on his side and felt nothing. Empty, bare, stripped of anything that ever held importance. He stretched out his arm, trying to feel something. He looked at his pale skin, unmarked, and he couldn't feel it. As the worst kind of thoughts flooded into his brain, as he searched desperately for a way to feel something, his hand brushed against tin foil. And cardboard. And chocolate. He picked up the chocolate block that Tony had given him and placed a square in his mouth. He felt then, he felt the taste. The rich, milky taste that waved across his tongue. He felt. And then, after that, he felt everything else. He threw the chocolate away and curled up, clutching at the blanket Tony had been lying on. And then, only after he had felt, did he cry.


End file.
